


When Hell Freezes Over

by GlasyaLabolas



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Demons, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Gore, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-11-05 20:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlasyaLabolas/pseuds/GlasyaLabolas
Summary: Shizuo asks Izaya to marry him. The next day the TV explodes and things go to Hell from there.





	1. Cold Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Canon diverges post-Raijin, meaning the events between Izaya and Shizuo afterward never occurred.

It’s a horribly mundane evening and it makes Shizuo’s plans all the worse for Izaya. The brunet, in shorts, socks, and the other male’s hooded sweatshirt, has just stuffed another slice of ootoro into his mouth when the blond turns to him and asks, “Would you marry me?”

 

Izaya jerks out of his curled lounging position on the couch, spitting out bits of rice with his harsh coughing. Somehow, he manages a choked, “What?”

 

“You heard me the first time.” Shizuo’s voice is less annoyed and more _embarrassed_ , his body turned towards the other but flushing face aimed at the wholly forgotten television. The box he pulled from his pocket is held out in the small space between them, waiting to be accepted or rejected.

 

“I--... _What?_ ”

 

Shizuo thrusts the box at Izaya who peels back at the action, holding his polyester takeout box away from the jewelry box as if the engagement ring could taint his ootoro. The blond turns to face him, honey brown eyes open like windows for Izaya to see all of the swirling emotions. The fear of rejection slowly eclipsing the gentleness and whatever bravery that had been mustered to pop the question. Izaya can hear Shizuo’s heartbeat over his own in his ears as he stares back into those eyes.

 

“It’s a yes or no question,” Shizuo says quietly as silence persists.

 

It’s a stupid tradition neither of them _need_ to indulge in. By now, both equally know that there’s no other they want despite propositions from others. If anything, it makes their relationship more _real_ to their enemies. Izaya may be a selfish fool, but he knows that they’re each other’s weakness and there are plenty that want to take advantage of that. He doesn’t want to risk any possible scenarios that may or may not result in someone testing out the blond’s tolerance for torture, and he certainly doesn’t want to be in that position either.

 

Then again, Izaya Orihara is a fool. A very, very selfish fool. As the saying goes, the heart wants what it wants.

 

“Yes.”

 

Izaya’s pulled forward into an embrace the second the soft word leave his lips. The jewelry box falls to the couch as the takeout container spills onto the floor. He feels as if all of the blood in his body is suddenly pumping to his face and tries his damnedest to hide it against the blond’s chest. His arms twine around Shizuo and the emotional security he feels from the hug is dizzying, his body now heavy and liquid-y. Izaya’s far too lost in himself to realize Shizuo’s mentally checked into cloud nine, brain floaty from the influx of lifting emotions.

 

“I love you.”

 

Izaya’s equally heartfelt response comes muffled through cloth, “Stupid Shizu-chan ruined my dinner.”

 

They stay still in each other’s arms until the brunet’s lungs begin to beg for fresh air. The bright smile Izaya sees makes his body want to melt into a puddle as his brain screams regret at him. Shizuo’s hands move to cup his shoulders and Izaya’s skin tingles under the thick layer of clothing.

 

“I’m gonna go call Kasuka. And my mom.” Shizuo speaks excitedly, his words pressing together. “And then probably Celty and Tom.”

 

Izaya’s rocked as the blond springs from the couch for his phone. He sits limply, exhaling heavily to regain some of his lost composure. His heart’s still beating like a frantic drum and his cowardly, traitorous brain is working overtime to make his answer feel like a mistake. It succeeds in making him feel pathetic, but peering over the couch to see how exhilarated and animated Shizuo is on the phone in the kitchenette is all Izaya needs to feel somewhat secure in his emotional weakness. At least he has something he can gloat about having that Shinra and Namie don’t to their faces.

 

“He said _yes_ , Kasuka!” Izaya hears Shizuo cheer too loudly.

 

The brunet finally looks at the white jewelry box on the cushion. It’s plain, no marking to tell where it was bought from. Izaya pops it open, the platinum band shining strongly despite the soft lightning in the living room. It’s stark except for the stone, a brownish yellow octagon cut topaz. It’s simplistic in design and a perfect fit for both of their tastes, despite the color not favoring Izaya as much as others might have.

 

“How did Shizu-chan afford this?” He blurts out.

 

“It’s a family heirloom,” Shizuo replies quickly, peeking out of the kitchenette.

 

Izaya narrows his eyes at the accessory, it’s too unmarred by time for that to be true. He considers Shizuo lying and having asked for the money from his brother, but it makes no sense why he’d lie about it in the first place. He doesn’t _want_ to be suspicious, he just wants to enjoy the moment and his happiness. So Izaya tries to stop himself from being himself by pulling the ring out and slipping it on. The cold metal causes his skin to goosebump and the dark gem makes his pale skin all the more prominent. When he holds his hand out flat to see how it appears at a distance, Shizuo’s voice comes from behind him.

 

“I love you.”

 

Izaya startles, not even having heard the ringing of the blond’s cellphone get closer.

 

“It’s okay,” Shizuo says when Izaya doesn’t reply in turn. “It looks likes it belongs on you. Promise not to take it off during work?”

 

The brunet pouts as if his expression will do anything to hide his blush. “You think so low of me, Shizu-chan.”

 

Shizuo leans over the back of the couch, holding the phone away from them both. “No, but I am thinking of you low right now.” Izaya opens his mouth to retort when the other man swoops in for a kiss. Shizuo’s lips are a bit chapped and he tastes of cigarettes and the sushi from his dinner, but the slow and smooth movements of the other’s lips as he’s gently opened up in the kiss are all Izaya needs to feel relaxed and at peace with thrusting himself out there emotionally. They’ve been “dating” for almost two years now, Izaya should know better than to think Shizuo will drop him and throw him aside like garbage by now. It doesn’t stop his paranoid fears however, but the ring, the kisses, the words. They alleviate his ingrained worries like a salve to a wound.

 

“Hello?”

 

Shizuo jolts back like a teenager caught in the middle of a lecherous act, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Mom! I’ve got some great news!”


	2. Learning About the Truth is Known to be a Shocking Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya receives gifts and then TV explodes.

“Shizu-chan had that little talk with Kasuka about sending us condoms and lubricants as gifts, _right?_ ”

 

Shizuo freezes in place on the couch, spoonful of pudding poising in the air as his eyes lock on to the television to avoid looking at Izaya and the package in his hands. Ever so elegantly, he says, “Uh...”

 

“ _Wonderful,_ ” Izaya chirps sarcastically.

 

The brunet pulls out his switchblade to cut the tape and open the medium sized brown box. Izaya ignores the small printed card with “To the Newly Engaged” on top of everything to root around, finding exactly what he was expecting.

 

“ _Ribbed for his pleasure._ Well, aren’t _I_ lucky?” He grabs a handful of the plastic wrappers, intending to throw the wad at the blond, when the doorbell goes off.

 

“I’ll… Text him about it, okay?” Shizuo offers through his embarrassment.

 

Izaya glares at his fiance on his way to the door. On the step is another package and he sighs deeply. He almost hopes that this one is filled with dildos, if only because they’ll hurt more upon impact. Not as if Shizuo would feel it regardless. When he had said yes he hadn’t anticipated gifts. Most of Shizuo’s small group of friends had offered simple things like various pastries and desserts as congratulations. Izaya’s side, however, were either deranged or thought they were hilarious. Mairu and Kururi had brought over bondage rope, handcuffs, and gags, even going so far as to offer to show how useful their toys were on their big brother. Namie had offered sedating drugs to Shizuo for when Izaya was on his nerves too much. Then there was Erika… Izaya didn’t want to think about Erika’s gifts again.

 

Unlike Kasuka’s box, this larger one carried no return address. The brunet’s paranoia kicks in immediately, pressing his ear to the box first. He hums at the silence, feeling the weight of it in his arms. It’s not heavy, whatever it is inside is feels fairly flat. It feels a bit like clothes, which makes the lack of a return address all the odder. He hasn’t ordered anything and Shizuo doesn’t bother with buying clothes online. Izaya’s giving the box a gentle shake when Shizuo looks over.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Who hasn’t sent us something yet, Shizu-chan?”

 

Shizuo thinks for a moment, scooping up more pudding from his dish. “My parents? But my mother can’t mail a cake, so.”

 

The brunet sets the box on the coffee table before slicing the tape open. Izaya’s eyes immediately go wide and starry at the contents within. He pulls out an article of clothing, letting it unfold fully. The card that was sitting on top falls to the floor, completely missed by Izaya’s excitement. It’s a full brown fur coat, probably ripped right from the early nineteen hundreds, and the brunet can’t stop himself from slipping it on to see if the size fits.

 

Shizuo’s nose scrunches as he continues to eat his dessert. It looks pretty ridiculous to him, Izaya’s twice as small encompassed in the fluff, but at least Izaya’s happy, so whatever. Who the hell would even send that? The blond chokes on the spoonful in his mouth, giving it actual thought.

 

Izaya spins in a circle. It fits perfectly, only going down a foot past his waist, and feels _amazing_. This is probably the second time he’s been excited for winter. First being when he realized that Shizuo was practically a living heater. There’s a second coat still folded in the box and the young man picks it up gently to read the label.

 

“This is _real_ ,” he gasps, eyes managing to go wider.

 

“H-Hey Izaya--” The blond nervously tries to get out, dropping his snack to the table.

 

“ _Real_ fur, Shizu-chan!” Izaya drops the other coat to scramble for the card.

 

_To the future Mr. and Mrs. Heiwajima._

 

“Mrs.?!” Izaya squawks indignantly, gripping the card tighter between his fingers.

 

Shizuo’s off of the couch and quickly stepping up to Izaya, his hands up and out placatingly. “It’s probably from...my dad, and he just doesn’t know that you’re a man.”

 

“You didn’t tell him that little detail?” The brunet’s eyes narrow on him. If Shizuo’s father was homophobic or something, he would’ve mentioned it much earlier on.

 

“No, my mom probably just mentioned our engagement in passing and he just acted--” Shizuo waves his hands dismissively. This is far from important and it’s not what he needs to discuss right this second. “I’ve got some... _things_ to tell you that are really important.”

 

Izaya’s eyes are growing more and more suspicious by the second as the blond tries to clumsily compose what he has to say. Shizuo’s never had to fully think out this conversation, he never wanted to have this conversation _period_. With anyone else, it might have come up by now, but this is Izaya and Izaya’s interests are _unique_ and _goddammit_ , Shizuo just wanted a life that’s remotely _normal!_

 

Shizuo’s staring back into Izaya’s eyes when he takes a deep breath and begins talking again. “There’s something about myself that I’ve been keeping from you because I didn’t want to involve you.” The informant’s gaze is starting to soften with the blond’s quiet honesty. Frankly, Izaya feels uncomfortable, his stomach knotting itself. There’s nothing about Shizu-chan that he shouldn’t know. What could his fiance possibly have kept secret from _him_ , Izaya Orihara, the great informant of Shinjuku?

 

Shizuo’s gaze flickers down shamefully before meeting Izaya’s eyes again. His lips move, about to speak again when the television short-circuits with a deafening buzzing. The screen floods with snowy static before a surge of electricity rips through it with a heavy _boom_. Izaya shrieks from the sudden event, almost tripping over his own feet as Shizuo grabs one of his wrists and jerks him into his protective embrace instinctively. Smoke billows out of the television, all of its circuits assuredly fried beyond possible repair.

 

“Little brother! I’ve come baring congratulatory gifts!” Izaya hears Shizuo’s uncharacteristically cheerful voice exclaim. His head rises from the blond’s chest where he had ducked to look at his face. Shizuo’s eyes are livid, his teeth gritted and grinding against one another. Izaya follows his gaze towards the television. Or rather, towards the man standing in front of their ruined television. Towards _Shizuo_ standing in front of their combusted, smoking television.

 

Izaya blinks owlishly, his head darting back and forth between the two. _This is a dream_ , he thinks. It has to be. There can’t be two Shizuos. Izaya’s not ashamed to admit that he’s had these kinda of dreams before. Being sandwiched between two horny Shizuos he can’t fight off and has to bend to the will of is a pretty thrilling fantasy. But it’s just that, a _fantasy_. He’s aware that he’s dreaming now, so why hasn’t he woken up yet?

 

Shizuo begins to visibly shake with anger, his hands balled into fists so tightly that his knuckles are white. “ _You shitty asshole!_ Why can’t you fucking use a goddamn door!?”

 

“Uhm, why would I _ever_ do that?” Other Shizuo says, a splayed hand up with their lopsided shrug. Izaya’s head cocks as he takes in this one’s attire. He’s not really one for suit porn himself, but he’s fascinated to find out that orchid pink isn’t a bad color on Shizu-chan.

 

“If you’re mad about the TV, I’ll just buy you a new one.”

 

“ _I’m not mad about the TV!_ _I haven’t told him yet!_ ”

 

“ _What?_ ” Pink Shizuo startles in place, his eyes widening. “How could you _not_ tell him? Aren’t you _marrying_ him? Don’t you _love_ him?”

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Normal Shizuo roars back, leaving Izaya’s side to charge at himself. “I was just about to when you _fucking ruined it!_ ”

 

“You can’t blame this on me!” Pink Shizuo begins quickly backing up as Normal Shizuo leaps over the back of the couch instead of rounding it.

 

“ _Stand still ‘cause I’m gonna kill you!_ ”

 

“C’mon, you know that that’s not gonna do or fix anything!”

 

Izaya pinches the skin of his arm with his fingernails as Shizuo chases himself around their living room couch. “I, I’m not dreaming?” He shakily whispers as Normal Shizuo roars again and lifts the sofa up. The furniture flies across the room and crashes against a wall, leaving a large dent in its wake. Without it blocking his way from his other self, Shizuo bolts forward and grasps the other’s tie, tugging him towards himself.

 

If this were one of Izaya’s dream, here is likely when the two Shizuos would start kissing, but this is definitely not one of Izaya’s dreams.

 

Normal Shizuo rears back his arm for a good, solid punch when there’s a crack of thunder and then the room illuminates with a quick bright flash. Izaya blinks several times to right his eyes. When the blinding white is out of his vision he looks over at the duo again. Pink Shizuo is fixing his tie, smoothing out the wrinkles from Normal Shizuo’s grip, and Normal Shizuo’s stock still, with the exception of his chest jumping as he heavily breathes in and out.

 

Shizuo’s fingers twitch with aftershocks, his blond mop of hair now entirely frizzed out. His voice is dangerously calm and steady when he says, “I’m ringing your neck twice as hard for that, Delic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long overdue, since this fic in particular required the first two for proper set up.
> 
> I'm typically quite against making Shizuo a literal monster due to how it totally rewrites his character and misses so much of the point of his character. But this is a comedy with some fluff and very light sprinklings of angst, so I can make a bit of an exception and tip characterization a bit without loathing myself entirely. I shouldn't've tagged so many characters so early on, but oh well, it's far too late now.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	3. Blood Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to go to Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for mentions of grotesque imagery and implications.

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Izaya’s voice suddenly rings out, grabbing the attention of both blonds. He had heard something about being brothers, but that’s ridiculous. Shizuo couldn’t hide having more family from Izaya, Izaya has seen his family records and has snooped through all other likewise things long ago. Izaya knows every piece of medical recording, even from when Shizuo had chicken pox as a child, the brunet would know if Shizuo’s mother gave birth to more than him and Kasuka.

 

“You must be the fiance,” Pink Shizuo says while appraising the brunet with his inhumanly colored eyes. “ _Very pleased_ to meet you,” he purrs. The vibrating noise, coupled with the lecherous glint in his eyes, sending thrills up Izaya’s spine. “I’m Delic.”

 

“Shizu-chan’s _brother?_ ” He says experimentally. “I never knew he was… a twin?” Delic had said _little_ _brother_. Izaya turns his head to glare at Shizuo, his eyes swimming with confusion as well as anger from being left in the dark. The blond’s shoulders are hunched inwards, sheepish despite his angry expression still aimed at his look-a-like.

 

“We’re not twins, he’s my older brother.” Shizuo mumbles, annoyance lacing his words.

 

Delic curtly nods with an introductory bow. “I’ve got a few millennium on him,” he offhandedly adds and the words spear through the brunet’s mind like a harpoon, his thoughts bleeding out like a pierced whale.

 

Izaya exhales all of the air out of his lungs, his eyes widening like a doe. “ _Millennium?_ ” He asks once, then whirls his head back at Shizuo to repeat, “ _Millennium._ ”

 

The informant looks as if his perception of reality has been rocked and replaced with fireworks and, frankly, this is one of the reasons Shizuo didn’t want to talk to Izaya about _this_ , his _messy_ family situation. Izaya wasn’t like Celty or Ruri, his desire for immortality and fascination with all things supernatural was an utter pain in the ass. That was the main reason he just kept putting it off, Shizuo just wanted that normal human life he was promised. He knew that when the brunet was put up to speed, he’d never stop demanding things like answers Shizuo didn’t have to all kinds of strange questions. Izaya would want to explore those places humans can’t and shouldn’t go, _to know_ what others didn’t or currently couldn’t. For fuck’s sake, Shizuo just wanted his days to be peaceful, to be filled with things like home-cooked dinners and walks through parks during sunsets. What a pipe dream, he should’ve known better when Izaya began to get close.

 

“ _What are you?_ ” Izaya asks, voice wondrous and volume slightly above that of a whisper. His eyes are twinkling like a child staring up at a lit Christmas tree.

 

“I,” Shizuo starts and exhales to ease the tension in his shoulders. “I’m half-demon. My old man’s a demon.”

 

“ _How could you keep that from me?_ ” is the strongest thought in Izaya’s mind, but it’s not what he chooses to verbalize.

 

“Show me.”

 

Shizuo’s eye twitches and he exhales disbelievingly, “What?” Izaya opens his mouth to elaborate, but the blond speaks before him. “What the hell am I supposed to show you to prove it, you’ve seen what I do when I get pissed off.”

 

Izaya’s mouth forms a petite “o” as he processes the new information with his previous memories. “Is that the full extent of it, Shizu-chan?”

 

Having been excluded and ignored by the duo in their moment, Delic helps himself to one of his own numerous gifts by the annihilated television, pulling out a wine bottle to open before the nickname catches his attention again. “ _Shizu-chan,_ how cute!” He exclaims while the cork spits electric charges, popping free without a single touch a second later.

 

“ _Shut up, Delic._ ”

 

The white suited blond harrumphs, a wine glass from the duo’s cabinets materializing in his other hand in full view of Izaya’s interested eyes. On one of the blond’s fingers is a ring similar to the one Shizuo had proposed with, the gem a brilliant pink and its cut marquise.

 

“Are you a half-demon as well?” The brunet asks Delic when Shizuo chooses to use his interruption to not answer. He has to know to begin compiling and organizing this new information. Shizuo’s surprise sibling not only claimed to be millenniums older than him, but clearly displayed more or simply different powers, so what else separates the two?

 

“When I was young.” Delic provides as he pours his glass.

 

Each new piece of information seems to be leagues more fascinating than the last. However, before Izaya can ask his next question and the blond demon can take a sip of his drink, both blonds freeze. Their eyes snap away and Izaya follows their gaze with immense interest, his eyes narrowing with scrutiny when he realizes that they’re focusing on the bathroom door.

 

There’s a sudden knock on the wood and Izaya’s eyes widen further. With Delic’s entrance, someone materializing on the other side of their bathroom door isn’t as shocking, but with how still the two blonds suddenly are, Izaya’s curiosity can’t raise any higher. Smoke billows out from under the door and Izaya takes a step forward to go answer it, but Shizuo’s arm shoots out and his hand securely grips Izaya’s arm. Izaya’s head spins to gaze back at his fiance, but Shizuo’s eyes are still fixated on the door like a territorial animal whose space is being encroached upon.

 

The knob rattles, turning itself when no one comes to open it, revealing a third blond with dull grapefruit pink eyes. Despite his childlike wonder and curiosity with the new turn of events, Izaya’s trained eyes hone in on the most important and alarming details first. Namely the silver pistol stuffed into this doppelganger’s belt and the knuckledusters, colored to match the presumed demon’s eyes. It’s after these details that Izaya notices that his bathroom has disappeared entirely, a pitch blackness replacing the space behind the blond.

 

The new blond’s eyes flicker over the trio before stepping inside and allowing the door to shut itself behind him. In his left’s grip is a large gift bag, which he holds out after calmly approaching Shizuo and Izaya.

 

“Happy birthday,” the blond flatly congratulates.

 

Delic’s eyes roll and he sighs. “Shizuo got engaged, not aged a year older.”

 

“Oh,” the other suited blond says. His eyes slowly sink to his gift bag, a small frown taking over his neutrally pressed lips.

 

“Thanks anyway, Rubi.” Shizuo says, cueing said blond to look at him then Izaya.

 

Rubi’s gaze scrutinizes Izaya, his bored eyes unreasonably piercing. It hits the brunet then, even as a human unable to detect whatever that had frozen the other two, that something was off about the third blond.

 

“Izaya Orihara,” he introduces coolly. Shizuo’s grip on his arm hasn’t relented, but Izaya will be damned if he allows himself to seem as perturbed.

 

Something clicks in the blond’s head and Rubi’s dull pink eyes brighten with an unsettlingly red hue. Shizuo’s grip tightens on Izaya’s arm and Delic takes a long sip of his wine. “You like fur?” His monotonous voice piques.

 

Izaya’s eyes briefly flicker down at himself, still donning his new gift. “Yes.”

 

“Okay,” Rubi says, “I’ll be back.” He turns, the bag rustling and grabbing his attention again. Facing Shizuo, he forces the bag into Shizuo’s space to be received. “This is for you.”

 

Shizuo takes the gift quickly, lacking the caution for himself that he does for the brunet. “Thanks.”

 

Rubi lamely waves over his shoulder as he leaves, the door shutting itself behind him with a loud creak.

 

“Another brother of yours?” Izaya asks, whirling back on his fiance and tugging his arm to be freed.

 

Shizuo releases his hold hesitantly and fixes the brunet with a harsh look that leaves no room for arguments. “Izaya, I’m really serious about this, you can’t mess with Rubi.”

 

Izaya opens his mouth to object to the accusation and demand answers as to why, but Delic interrupts. “You should listen to him, human.”

 

The brunet’s eyes narrow at the remark. Delic’s tone hadn’t delivered the word as an insult to his place, but rather a warning, and Izaya had heard it clear as day.

 

“Seriously, Izaya,” Shizuo continues. “You can screw around with any of my half-siblings, but Rubi and my father are off-limits.”

 

Delic’s eyes light up, glowing a bright hot pink, as his lips curl mischievously. “ _Screw_ , you say?”

 

Shizuo’s head cocks towards his brother. “ _Shut up, Delic._ ”

 

The other blond shrugs a single shoulder and sips from his glass.

 

“Why are you even still here?” Shizuo demands, turning to face Delic fully.

 

The pink eyed blond swings his free arm to the mountain of presents sitting around the fried television as if it were a Christmas tree. “You know that I’m the best gift giver in this family! Where’s my appreciation, hah?” He huffs, pouting exaggeratedly. “You haven’t opened a single one yet!”

 

“But _you_ did,” Izaya states.

 

Delic gasps, his face tightening with the accusation before falling into neutrality. “Fair,” he replies with another sip of the duo’s wine. “I hope you really do like dad’s gift, ‘cause Rubi is gonna bring you more furs. He can be a literalist.”

 

Izaya’s eyes shine with excitement over the prospect of being given more real fur coats. By the brunet’s side, Shizuo’s mouth wrinkles with annoyance. “Who told you and dad anyway?”

 

“Your mother,” Delic answers easily, “then dad told all of us. You know how he can be.” Lazily, he gestures to Izaya’s coat.

 

Shizuo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He can’t be angry at his mother, her intentions were always pure, but he can always be angry at how intrusive Delic can be.

 

“How many half-brothers do you have, Shizu-chan?”

 

The blond grumbles, “Four.” His eyes unfocus for a second before he mumbles in addition, “that I know of.”

 

“Tsugaru and Tsuki are more well-mannered than him though.” Shizuo says, jerking a thumb at Delic.

 

Delic gasps with faux offense again, finishing off his glass of wine before immediately pouring himself another. “Either of you want some of this?”

 

“You didn’t get _us_ wine, you bought that for yourself.” The suited blond’s face exaggerates again, telling Izaya that Shizuo hit the nail on the head. “You know that I don’t drink that shit and you don’t even know Izaya.”

 

“That’s fair, but everything I got is practical anyway! What’s even in Rubi’s bag?”

 

“I _don’t_ want to know.” Shizuo responds, his nose crinkling with worry and disgust and, frankly, that’s all Izaya has to see to send him twisting for the gift bag. His fiance startles and his grip tightens like an iron vice, pulling the bag towards himself. “Oi, Izaya--” Shizuo tries to warn as there’s a mechanical click of a blade popping free of its hilt and the rope string keeping the bag in his possession is slashed off with a quick swing. Shizuo’s eyes widen with trepidation as Izaya snatches the bag and takes a few hopping steps away to be out of his reach.

 

Izaya’s fingers move around the tissue paper, pushing it out of the way until they meet something solid. It feels like thick glass, and Izaya grips what is assuredly a bottle neck to pull it out. In all appearances it’s a wine bottle, however Izaya is not disappointed, the writing on the oddly small label in a language that the brunet cannot recognize. As he tips the bottle, the red liquid inside sloshes sluggishly, more viscous in nature than any wine should be.

 

“Ha! I knew it!” Delic exclaims haughtily as Shizuo pales. “Rubi gets that for everyone! For everything!”

 

Despite his fascination in what the bottle could say and what it could contain, the glimmer of more gifts in the bag catches Izaya’s eye and he deposits the bottle on the coffee table before pulling another gift out. This time it feels like a large jar and, when he frees it of the tissue paper, he can see through the clear glass at its contents.

 

Izaya stills and the gift bag begins to slip from his grip as the jar enraptures his attention.

 

“Izaya...” Shizuo says softly, carefully approaching the brunet with a viscerally disgusted expression.

 

Izaya’s horrified eyes are still mesmerized by the large jar. The reddish watery liquid inside churns as some of its contents twitch, flex, or beat despite their disconnect to the rest of their owners. “Why would he give you this, Shizuo?” He asks faintly, voice almost a whisper and his nickname for the blond abandoned.

 

“Rubi’s not right, Izaya.” The brunet’s eyes slowly slide to the bag where more gifts reside, his sour stomach begging him to avoid the rest. “Everyone’s always told me that he’s more demon than he ever was human.”

 

Delic clears his throat loudly, briskly stepping up to the brunet and snapping his fingers. With a jolt of static and burst of light, both the gift bag and the jar disappear without a trace from Izaya’s hands. “As the best gift giver in the family,” Delic proclaims, splaying his free hand over his chest, “I demand that you open one of mine next.”

 

The pink eyed blond materializes one of the bags from the pile to his hand, holding it out for Izaya to take. However, Izaya’s attention sticks to the unreadable bottle on the coffee table. After a pregnant pause, he says, “It’s blood isn’t it.”

 

Delic slings his arm with his wine glass over Izaya’s shoulder, annoying both the brunet and Shizuo. “Relax, it’s not human.” He says, lowering his head close enough to almost press his cheek against Izaya’s, a smarmy expression taking over. “You can’t tell, but it fucking reeks of divinity.”

 

“Divinity?” Izaya repeats questioningly, his spark of interest returning. Of course angels probably exist too.

 

“It’s a delicacy to our kind,” the blond continues to inform, “not that that meant anything to _Shizu-chan_ anyway.”

 

“S _hut up, Delic!_ ” Shizuo grits out.

 

“The old man’s always disappointed that he never wants to partake,” he whispers in Izaya’s ear.

 

“Now,” Delic starts, pausing to sip his wine again, pulling Izaya closer against his chest with the action and cueing Shizuo to fume more. “I wasn’t told that you were a man, but I’ve always believed that lingerie is unisex anyway.”

 

Izaya’s face twists with disgust and aggravation as he tries to push the blond out of his personal space with no avail.

 

“ _Get the hell outta our apartment!_ ” Shizuo shouts, stomping forward as the various doors in the apartment rattle noisily. Izaya’s struggling stops as his attention darts from door to door, watching as the doors attempt to bend inwards.

 

“But my gifts!” Delic tries to object, only earning a growl from his sibling as he pats Izaya’s shoulder with his free hand. The blinds on their windows shake, rearing back and forcefully smacking against the glass repeatedly. Izaya twists in Delic’s hold, trying to distance himself and watch as their apartment seems to come to life. “I haven’t even heard a single _thank you_!”

 

There’s a sudden cacophony of noise as all of the door swing open, their hinges groaning and twisting, the blinds drop from their mechanisms with heavy thuds onto the floor, and the room goes unnaturally dark as the light from the wall-length windows vanish along with the city outside.

 

“ _Get. Out._ ” Izaya hears Shizuo’s growl reverberate around the open space, his voice dipping an octave.

 

The brunet blinks, trying to adjust to the darkness, when the body pressed against his disappears. He reaches out, trying to find where the other blond may have stepped to, and meets nothing. He hesitates before taking a careful step forward. His foot meets solid ground, but makes no discernible sound, not even a faint shuffle when he rubs his socked foot against the flat ground.

 

“Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks the deafening silence and jerks when a small golden light flickers on in response. He twists, hoping to see where it’s coming from, only to notice that it’s from the topaz on his finger.

 

Izaya’s eyes narrow down at the gem as he wonders aloud, “What is it supposed to do, Shizu-ch--” Izaya cuts himself off with a muted gasp as the light brightens and reveals more of the darkness around his hand. Spindly tanned fingers grope the empty black air in front of Izaya’s person, their nails pointed and sharp like claws, and it’s not the only one reaching towards him. Izaya takes a very slow, hesitated step backwards, turning very carefully to use his ring as a lantern, but numerous hands inhabit the darkness as if they were made of it. The brunet doesn’t dare inch his hand forward to see to what they could possibly connect to. Izaya twists his head and hand this way and that, finding no space free of the groping hands as they creep closer.

 

“Shizu-chan,” he calls softly again, like a prayer.

 

The emanating light from the topaz brightens again, triggering the hands to surge forward. Izaya grits his teeth to not shout as he struggles against all of the hands latching onto his body. He’s forced still by their iron grip and feels his feet leave the ground as hands grip them. He can’t struggle for one of his knives and the only relief he has is that they’re not literally groping him, instead holding him still. They’ve decided to push and pull him in some direction when light suddenly floods the space, blinding Izaya and forcing his eyes to snap shut protectively.

 

Warm arms coil around his midsection as all of the hands release him at once. Hot breath ruffles his black hair from the head resting atop of his own, his ear hearing a clear, steady heartbeat from the chest his head is pressed against.

 

“I’m so sorry.” Shizuo whispers, his muffled voice wavering with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to force you out too.”

 

Izaya’s hands shake, curling into fists despite this. Shizuo allows him to twist in his tight hold and he smacks the blond’s chest with both fists. “ _What have you been keeping from me?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to update this either, surprise! I really didn't intend for this to become graphic either, I promise to keep it very mild so we can focus more on the comedy and fluff, but, you all know, story things have to happen. (Also, every demon AU I create, I feel so obligated to make Rubi the scariest of the bunch.)
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.


	4. A Burning Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo gets horny.

“Where would you like me to start?” Shizuo softly asks.

 

Izaya huffs, his uneven breathing trying to settle back into a rhythm from his ordeal. He’s vaguely aware of a few tears pricking the corners of his eyes, but Shizuo’s not even looking at him for him to feel embarrassed about it, instead focusing on the floor between their feet. Izaya’s too familiar with the shame swimming in the blond’s honey brown eyes. Shizuo’s thoughts have always been largely self-deprecating in nature and he’s probably bombarding himself with more of them right now.

 

Izaya’s fingers stop trembling when he reaches forward and cups Shizuo’s jaw, gently forcing the blond to look back at him. “Why did you hide it from me?”

 

Shizuo takes his time to answer and Izaya waits patiently, silently watching as his fiance’s eyes dim darker by the second. He thinks two minutes pass before the blond whispers anything back.

 

“Would you have fallen in love with me if you knew what kind of monster I really am?” Shizuo’s voice bleeds with a fragility that the brunet has only heard pressed against his skin at three in the morning. Shizuo has a few inches on Izaya, but even while looking up at the blond, Shizuo manages to look small.

 

_Yes._

 

Izaya scoffs. “Shizu-chan’s such a protozoan.” Shizuo’s eyebrows tick downwards, his lips pressing together. “You – what, think that I’m going to suddenly become afraid of you because I know that you’re a demon?” The blond opens his mouth to interject, but Izaya won’t allow him. “Don’t be so stupid. And here I thought that I might rub off some brains on you.”

 

Izaya anticipates Shizuo’s responding crushing hug, happily burying his head against the blond’s chest. “Shizu-chan is so ridiculous sometimes,” he says, muffled. Izaya inhales slowly against Shizuo’s shirt, hoping to breathe in the other man’s scent for comfort, but gags when something abhorrently foul assaults his nostrils. Izaya squirms in Shizuo’s arms, desperately trying to push him away for fresh air. Shizuo’s arms uncoil and freeze midair as the brunet gags again, mild confusion painting his face.

 

“You stink.” Izaya nasally informs, his fingers pinching his nostrils shut.

 

“ _Shit,_ ” Shizuo curses, sheepishly looking at his hands. “I think it’s sulfur or something.”

 

“Sulfur?” The brunet’s eyes widen with curiosity.

 

“Hold on, I-I think I can get rid of it.” Shizuo glares down at his hands, his palms open and fingers spread. “Uhm,” he vocalizes as he concentrates intensely. Izaya watches intently as Shizuo stands there, staring at his empty hands. Nothing appears to be happening and he’s about to order the blond to just go shower when his irises flash with a harsh bright light like a camera, the brown hue being absorbed by a golden yellow. The ends of his blond hair lift a centimeter, specks of dust and dirt floating up and off of his shirt to hover as well. Izaya’s fingers free his nose as his mouth gapes a fraction with fascination.

 

As quickly as the change occurred, it ceases, his eyes reverting, and Shizuo relaxes with an exhale. “Ah, I think I did it.”

 

“ _What did you just do?_ ” Izaya asks, leaning his head forward as his eyes twinkle. The smell _is_ gone when he inhales, the usual stink of tobacco back on Shizuo.

 

“Oh,” the blond flushes faintly. “I, uh, had to purge some magic.”

 

“You _do_ have magic then.”

 

Shizuo nods jerkily. “Probably picked up the stink from the rift,” he mumbles.

 

Izaya’s hands dart forward, tightly gripping Shizuo’s vest to attempt yanking him closer. Shizuo’s as unmovable as ever though, so the brunet slinks closer and presses their chests together. “You never answered me earlier,” he pouts childishly. “Your strength isn’t the extent of it. You _can_ do magic.”

 

“I’m really shit with magic, Izaya.” Shizuo openly admits with a petite frown. “It takes a lot of mental concentration.”

 

Izaya’s eye twitches. _Of fucking course._ “But what can you do if you really tried? Aside from that purging thing.”

 

“I’m… not sure? I’ve never really tried.” The brunet’s pout intensifies and Shizuo sighs. Izaya’s begun to look like a disappointed hamster and he knows damn well how that look works on Shizuo. “I’m a half-demon, got it? It takes more for me to do that shit. Not having control of my strength is bad enough, there’s no telling what kind of damage I could do if I let something loose that I can’t contain.”

 

“Have more faith in yourself, Shizu-chan.” Izaya says sincerely and manipulatively.

 

“You just wanna see more magical shit,” Shizuo slings back with his own pout.

 

Izaya leans impossibly closer, standing on his toes to bring their mouths closer until they’re only a fraction apart. “I want to see and know everything about you, Shizu-chan.” Shizuo’s cheeks burn red, his pout faltering, and Izaya smiles saccharinely.

 

Izaya doesn’t want to be the first to act and Shizuo realizes this quickly, leaning down the final few centimeters to kiss the brunet. The informant’s arms happily twine around Shizuo’s neck as their lips press. Izaya tilts his head without disconnecting, rubbing friction against the blond’s lips. Shizuo’s being too gentle with his presses and pecks, but that’s fine for now. Izaya’s still too hung up on the demon revelation to want to do anything else with the blond’s lips besides talk right now.

 

“You ‘forced’ Delic and I out?” He asks when Shizuo parts for air. “Where’d you send me?”

 

“I’m so sorry about that.” The guilt is returning to his honey brown eyes and Izaya won’t allow Shizuo to get sidetracked.

 

“I’m fine, aren’t I?”

 

“But--”

 

“Where was that?”

 

Shizuo hesitates a moment before shrugging a shoulder. “Nowhere? Everywhere?” He grits his teeth at how stupid and abstract that sounds. “It’s the space between the human realm and the demon realm, we call it the rift. We-- My kind use it like a sort of hallway to travel back and forth.”

 

Izaya’s eyes ignite, widening like saucers. “ _You can go to the demon realm?_ ”

 

Shizuo knows exactly what is going to fly out of the informant’s mouth next. “I’m not--”

 

“ _Can you take me?_ ”

 

“No!” The blond resolutely shouts, his gaze on Izaya hardening.

 

“You _can’t_ or you _won’t_?”

 

“The latter!”

 

“But, Shizu-chan!” Izaya begins to pout again.

 

“ _You_ call _me_ stupid but _you_ wanna go to Hell?!”

 

“So Hell exists too?” Shizuo’s not sure how Izaya manages to get his eyes to go any wider, but he does. “Are _you_ from Hell?”

 

Shizuo releases an aggravated groan as his hands rake down his face.

 

“Shizu-chan, _who_ is your father?”

 

“A dangerous high ranking demon, okay?” The blond snaps despite some relief floating in from the question. Izaya opens his mouth to throw out another question, but Shizuo wants this topic _dead_ already. “I _literally_ can’t tell you anything else about him! I’m bound by a contract! It’ll kill me if I try!”

 

Izaya’s passionate curiosity falters, a somberness overcoming some of his excitement. “Why would you agree to that?” He asks gently, finally releasing his hold on the blond’s neck to slip down.

 

Shizuo hesitates, opening and closing his a mouth a few times before settling on simply throwing the harsh truth out. “I only got three options when I started to present. Live in the human or demon realm until my humanity naturally ends or end my humanity prematurely myself and stay in the demon realm forever.”

 

Izaya stays quiet, processing his words. Delic’s answer to his previous half status return to Izaya’s mind too. Shizuo was always destined to be a monster and this life was the only one he’d ever get to experience the little humanity he has while it existed. He probably dreads the day, but Izaya can’t sympathize when he doesn’t have his own assurance that his death won’t be the true end of him.

 

“Can you take me with you?” Izaya asks softly, barely louder than a whisper.

 

Shizuo’s sad eyes dart to the informant’s mahogany brown, boring into the other man with the heavy request. “I’m not going to curse you like that, I love--”

 

“Being with you for eternity _wouldn’t_ be a curse,” Izaya ferociously snaps, “I love you too! I--” Izaya’s shouting stalls as something on his person shudders violently. His pained gaze spins to hand, raising it to watch his engagement ring finish its bout of movement. The topaz glows dimly, its hue lightening. Izaya swears that something stirs inside the gem when he intently stares at it, like molten gold trapped in a case of thin glass; beautiful and dangerous but so fragile.

 

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya starts, quietening when the blond tenderly covers his displayed hand with his two own. His eyes begin to rise until a sizzling noise drags his attention back down. Thin streams of smoke pour out from around Shizuo’s fingers as the scent of burning flesh pervades the air between them. Izaya’s ready to yank his hand away when he notices the blond’s nails are elongating and sharpening. The gem seems to glow brighter in response, its bright light escaping through the cracks between Shizuo’s fingers, and the smoke thickens as the smell intensifies.

 

Izaya’s mesmerized and uncertain if he should be worried or not. Shizuo hasn’t flinched or pulled away from the topaz that is assuredly burning his palm, so he must have expected it. Perhaps he’s even used to it? Izaya opens his mouth to find out for himself when he finally looks at his fiance.

 

Shizuo’s serenely staring down at his own hands clasping Izaya’s, his irises now alight with a brilliant gold that outshines his hair. Izaya’s eager to lose himself in the blond’s gaze, but only once he becomes more acquainted with Shizuo’s horns. They’re not straight enough to be similar to a bull’s own and they’re not spiraling outwards in a fashion Izaya’s familiar with for rams. The blond’s horns jut from the top of his skull, in line with his ears, and languidly spiral out to put an inch between his skull and their remainder where they’ve coiled into a tight spiral, the pointed ends angled slightly upwards towards his front. Shizuo could definitely spear some creature wider than himself with an upwards headbutt if he desired to, Izaya thinks, and it’s no wonder that Shizuo is not a hat person.

 

Shizuo can feel the intensity of Izaya’s stare, his flushed cheeks from the brunet’s confession darkening further. “You wanted to see, right?” He mumbles, unfortunately not giving Izaya enough of a chance to see his canines.

 

“You’re magnificent, Shizu-chan,” isn’t what he expects to hear from Izaya and his face heats further. Shizuo’s grateful that fire was never his thing or else he’d be concerned about spontaneously combusting.

 

“Can I stop touching it now? I… _Really_ don’t like feeling this part of myself.” His skin feels too tight, like it doesn’t fit correctly. Probably because it doesn’t. The sudden rush of heightened senses are never fun either. A supernatural heat thrums in his veins like the aftershocks of an earthquake, running the loop throughout his body as it desperately searches for an escape and is forced to settle in a pit in his gut.

 

Izaya tugs his hand back to hold it against his chest, Shizuo eagerly recoiling his hands. The brunet watches, enraptured, as his fiance’s horns disappear, inch by inch, by breaking down into specks of dust that evaporate into thin air before making it past his shoulders. Shizuo absentmindedly rubs his head where the horns had jutted from as Izaya gazes back down at the now dimmed topaz.

 

“What is this ring, truly?” Izaya demands, though its lost in his tone due to his wonder.

 

“Right now?” The brunet hesitantly nods when he realizes that Shizuo’s awaiting an answer. “A kind of,” he pauses briefly, looking for the correct word, “incubator for the rest of me.” The corner of Shizuo’s mouth twitches. “Or a prison, if you’re asking someone like Rubi.”

 

“Delic has one too,” Izaya offers to cue Shizuo in to telling him as to why. Instead, the blond shrugs and says, “Yeah.”

 

Izaya narrows his gaze on the gem, lightly frustrated but not wanting to push Shizuo further on it quite yet. “Why would you propose with it?” What if he had hocked it off at a pawn shop or something, never truly learning its significance? Shizuo and Izaya himself both know that he would’ve gone to an appraiser first, but that would be besides the point.

 

“It’s tradition.” Shizuo says as if it were obvious and Izaya wants to sigh at his simplicity.

 

“I know we haven’t set a date or anything yet,” the blond continues, a pink flush still abloom on his now sheepish face, “but, when we get married, I’ll belong to you and you’ll belong to me. So, it doesn’t matter if you have a piece of me now or later.”

 

“ _God,_ ” Izaya expels in hope that his own face won’t color. In the moment, he doesn’t want to think about what else may or may not exist either. “Your traditional romanticism makes me sick.”

 

Shizuo looks fully at the brunet, needing to see his expression to discern if he truly means what he says or not, and finds it difficult to get Izaya to return his eye contact. Shizuo thinks to himself for a minute, letting the silence comfortably settle between them. However, after said minute, he licks his lips and asks, “Wanna go have sex?”

 

Izaya’s eyes finally meet his, the redness on his face furthering. “Not if it’s just going to be missionary.”

 

“We can compromise.”

 

Izaya opens his mouth to ask _how_ when Shizuo admits, “I’ve always kind of wanted to try doing it on the ceiling.”

 

The brunet doesn’t hesitate, “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't let myself end this with Rubi barging back in, though I really wanted to.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your comments and feedback! As always, correcting errors and tagging my fic for better accessibility is a top priority of mine.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU dials a whole lot back, so hopefully Shizuo and Izaya don't read as too cringe-ily out of character. I fought myself back and forth on whether to upload this now or much, much later. (I mean, chapter two sets up the deal for this much better, but I guess y'all can read tags, so oh well.) Please don't expect quick updates for this, as I'm calling it a back-burner fic for when I'm unable to work on other fics.
> 
> As always, comments and feedback of any kind are greatly appreciated. Especially criticism or to point out errors, since I'm without a beta reader and doing my own editing. I'll be updating the tags of the fic as I go, if anyone has tag recommendations for making this fic more accessible or to refine the warnings, please let me know in a comment. Thank you for reading!


End file.
